Bright Blue Rose
by Coneflower Adams
Summary: He knew the Lady Belle was not possessed, but no one else believed. Can Father Joseph save her before it's too late?
1. Innocent

_Title: Bright Blue Rose_

_Pairing: Macelle (Father Joseph x Belle)_

_Rating: M, for torture_

_Summary: He knew the Lady Belle was not possessed, but no one else believed. Can Father Joseph save her before it's too late?_

_Writer's note: This idea jumped out at me last night in my (literally) feverish drifting off to sleep. Joseph really wanted a chance to save Belle, so this is what happened._

* * *

They claimed this was the only way to save her. The daughter of Sir Maurice of the Marchlands was after all tainted by the demon who spirited her away in exchange for peace from the ogre invasion. They didn't heed the fact that she saved them all, that she seemed unchanged by the months she'd spent in the monster's lair. No, all they cared about was ridding her of evil contamination they were convinced was inside her.

Father Joseph couldn't see any evil lurking inside the young woman. He'd accustomed himself with Lady Belle since she was a child, and truly the sweet little girl that always had a bright smile for him was the same young woman who stood before him and the other clerics defending the monster. She'd always had a passion for protecting others, and it was no surprise that she would have sympathy for a demon.

His fellow clerics did not see it that way. They didn't even take into account her telling of what happened in the monster's lair. To them it was all a lie or a possession spell he had cast upon her. Her fate was set before she even stepped through the castle doors.

He heard her screams and pleas as she was dragged down the corridor and up the swirling stairs to the cleansing chamber. Father Joseph knew what would come next. Her screams would not end, not until the clerics confirmed her fit again or she die from her wounds. A pit in his stomach sank and his mind reeled with the images that were all too soon about to come to life.

The cleansing – though in Father Joseph's mind it had a different name, a darker name – began with nine cat tails to the back. The screams echoed through the corridors of the top floor. Others barely paused at the horrifying sound, seeming to be convinced as well that it was for the best. Lady Belle needed to be saved. Father Joseph knew otherwise. He saw what was being done, and truly he wanted no part in it. To torture a brave young woman who sacrificed herself for her people was unjust.

The cries of agony halted that evening as the clerics descended from the cleansing tower discussing what procedure to use the next morning. Father Joseph waited until they were out of sight and hurried up the stairs, fumbling with the key in the dim lamplight. His stomach retched as he held up the lamp at the sight of blood splattered on the stone floor. No one could have survived this. He feared all he'd find was a dead body, but as he held the lamp higher, he found Lady Belle lying in the straw beside the wall – alive.

"Lady Belle" he called to her in a hushed tone, bending immediately to access the injuries. She whimpered, trying to push herself up on weak limbs. She had not the energy and fell back to the floor, hissing in pain. "Don't move."

Father Joseph set the lamp down, plunging a hand in his pocket to fish out a small bottle of red liquid. He gently turned her face to him. "This will sting going down, but it will help with the pain." He uncorked it and pressed the bottle to her lips. Lady Belle coughed, threatening to spit it out, and Father Joseph clamped her mouth shut to save the contents.

When he was assured the liquid had been swallowed, he released his grip on her chin. "I apologize for being forceful, Lady Belle. You need that medicine or you will die of your wounds."

Lady Belle grabbed for his shoulder, trying desperately to sit up. Father Joseph knew it wasn't a good idea, but helped her up, a hand firm on her forearm to keep her steady. "Why are they doing this?" she rasped out, sounding as if her throat had been burned with fire.

"They do not believe you, Lady Belle" he replied in an apologizing tone. "They think the monster has possessed you."

"Do you believe me?" Even through the coarseness of her voice, he could hear hope.

Father Joseph tried to smile, but it was nearly impossible with the nightmare before him. "I do. I've known you since a child, Lady Belle. Your compassion is awe-inspiring. I know it is truly you who I am speaking to right now."

Tears glimmered in her eyes that were irritated and red from crying heavily. "Thank you, Father."

Father Joseph nodded vigorously. "I must clean your wounds, Lady." He helped her turn her back to him, and he set to the task of peeling the white dress from her wounds. Her back heaved as she hissed and sobbed as he cleaned the long, ugly red wounds with ointment and soothing clothes from his pocket.

This young woman did not deserve this gruesome treatment, this torture of a kind soul. He left her lying on her side in the straw, her breathing calming as the medicine he gave her began to set in. He descended the tower, vowing silently that he would find a way to rescue her before it was too late.


	2. Water

_Writer's note: Crediting Bad Faery for Father MacAvoy's first name!__  
_

* * *

As dawn broke the next morning, the clerics were no less convinced that the Lady Belle was possessed by evil. Father Joseph stood on the other side of the cleansing room's doorway awaiting the next form of torture his fellow clerics intended to inflict on her.

_Water_. It was a symbol of purification. They planned to hold her underwater until they physical saw an evil spirit detach itself or she drown.

Father Joseph peered around the wall, catching sight of Lady Belle. She still lay on her side, the clerics circled around her. Her head lay awkwardly on the straw, but her eyes looked up, pleading for him to help. Father Joseph shook his head, his bottom lip trembling, a feeling of helplessness consuming him.

She needed him. The only person on her side, the only person with the compassion to see passed the contrived ideas, but he could not lift a finger.

As the clerics prepared the purification procedure, Father Joseph stole away from the tower. If he stayed, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from intervening and that would do neither of them any good. He stayed in the library most of the day, trying desperately to take his mind off the brave young woman locked in the tower. He knew he shouldn't, but after a couple agonizing hours, he swiped the flask of alcohol from his pocket and took a few burning swigs to settle his nerves. Shame flooded him instantly. He hadn't needed strong drink to calm him in a very long time.

He couldn't hide in the library the entire day, and eventually he gained the courage to return to the rectory. He prayed he would not return to find a lifeless body in the tower. He was thankful as he watched the clerics descend the stairwell to overhear that Lady Belle was still alive, though what shape she was in was unknown for the time being.

As he was about to head to his chambers to retrieve any supplies needed to tend to her, Father Joseph stopped dead in his tracks as a certain word was spoken – flaying. His heart pounded violently against his chest and his stomach whirled sickeningly. They planned to flay her the next morning. Skin being peeled away, like a fish being scaled; she'd never survive that.

He rushed to his chambers. Pressing his back to the closed door, hands trembling, he choked down a few more swigs of alcohol. If he were to help Lady Belle, it had to be tonight or she would die. A plan. He needed a plan. He had to get her out of the tower and away from the sanctum. He couldn't lower her from the tower window. That would be more dangerous than letting her walk the corridors to freedom.

Stealing her away in plain sight may be the only way to rescue her. Father Joseph shook his head at the absurd idea. If he could disguise her in robes and pass her off as a cleric, he could get her to safety. It was the only option he had, and he hurried to his trunk to rummage out an old brown woolen robe he used on occasions. He also grabbed more healing ointment and a small sack of silver coins.

As the night grew long, Father Joseph quietly crept up the spiraling stairs to the tower. He paused before entering, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for whatever awaited him. It was no surprise to find Lady Belle lying on her side, breathing raggedly. Her skin was deathly pale in the lamplight and cold to the touch. Her chestnut locks were damp and tied in knots.

"Lady Belle" he called softly, fluttered his fingertips over her bare arm. She made a horribly broken noise and turned her face to him.

"Father Joseph" she rasped, barely audible.

"I'm here to take you away from this place." He pulled out the ointment, getting to work to cleaning her wounds from the day before. "I'm sorry I do not have anything for the pain, but I need you to stay awake. This will help to a degree" he said, coaxing her to drink from his flask. He knew it would scorch her throat, but he couldn't think of any other way to relieve the pain of her wounds. Lady Belle coughed and shook as if her body was falling to pieces. He steadied her as best he could and used soothing words he hoped gave comfort.

"It will be hard, but you must wear this robe and walk as best you can."

"Can't walk."

Her brokenness wrenched his heart. "You must, my Lady" Father Joseph encouraged. "It is the only way to save you. I will be with you. Lean on me if you need to, but you must leave this place or you will die."

With a vague nod, Lady Belle reached feebly for his arm and with gentle care, Father Joseph pulled her upright. He began dressing her in the loose robes, shielding her face in the shadows of the hood. He had no shoes for her. The torn, woolen stockings she wore would have to do. A firm hand under each arm, careful not to touch the wounds on her back, Father Joseph drew Lady Belle to her feet. She swayed, biting her lip to stifle a cry.

"Walk for me, my Lady" he coaxed, sliding hands down her arms to grasp her hands.

Lady Belle lurched forward with an inch of a step then another and another. It was more than what she said she could do, and Father Joseph couldn't hide the delight he felt. "Very good, my Lady."

Descending the stairwell felt like an eternity, and Father Joseph prayed no one else would have a mind to check on her during the night. Besides her shallow breathing, they both remained silent as they climbed down, finally making it to the corridors of the top floor of the rectory.

Father Joseph's heart had sunk into his stomach as the reality of being caught flooded his mind. This was it. If they were to be caught now, they'd both die. His fingers itched for the nearly empty flask against his side, but there was no time for that.

Not a soul was stirring on the top floor and Father Joseph breathed a sigh of relief as they cleared it, descending another flight of stairs to the bottom floor. He hoped they would have the same luck there, but as they stepped down, another lamplight greeted them. Father Joseph stopped short, a little too hastily, causing Lady Belle to stumble. He caught under the arms, feeling her body tense.

"What's the matter?" the voice behind the lamplight asked in urgency.

Father Joseph huffed, his mind careening through any explanation that would suffice. "A little too much sacramental wine this evening" he chuckled, trying to make light of it.

The intruding cleric joined in, chuckling shortly before moving on and Father Joseph finally realized he could breathe again. "Are you all right?" he whispered beside the hood.

Lady Belle squeezed his arm reassuringly, and they continued on. Father Joseph's heart grew faster as the door to freedom drew closer. It was the greatest relief ever felt to step outside. He doused the fire out in the lamp, hoping the moonlight would be enough to guide them to the neighboring woodlands.

They reached the garden wall, but as they passed it, Lady Belle collapsed to her knees. "Can't go on" she murmured, bending over, laying her forehead against the ground.

Father Joseph pulled her back up. "You must, Lady Belle. I cannot go with you."

She pawed at the front of his robes. "Please, Father. You don't belong here" she managed to say with much effort.

It was not a new revelation. He'd known for many years of the corruptness that had taken hold. No, he did not belong where gold was hoarded or rites changed on a whim to suite the moment or innocent people were tortured for their bravery. Here was his chance to escape the confines, to give aid to someone in need, and the idea scared the living daylights out of him.

Father Joseph licked his lips, ravenously searching for his flask. He drained the contents, realizing too late he should have saved it for Lady Belle and her pain. He should have known there was no going back the moment he set foot in the tower.

"Let us away, my Lady" he whispered reverently, scooping her into his arms, careful where his arms rested. He was not a very strong man, but Lady Belle hardly weighted enough to hold against a gust of wind. With her head tucked against his throat and his hold on her secure, they vanished into the darkness of the woods.


	3. Night Terrors

"_Father Joseph!" a sweet little voice greeted from behind, and he turned to find a mess of chestnut curls and a brilliant smile. _

"_Lady Belle," Father Joseph bowed his head, respectively, and the little girl beamed at him. _

"_Are you attending the festival tomorrow?" Belle asked, hands behind her back, curls swaying on her shoulders._

"_I wouldn't miss it for the world." He laughed as Belle's smile grew even wider. _

"_Wonderful!" Belle swung her hands out in front of her, a ring of daisies and periwinkles held in her palms. "I made this for you to wear."_

_Father Joseph stared in awe at the intricate ring of white and blue flowers. "It's beautiful, my Lady." He knelt to one knee before her, bowing his head. The sound of her delighted giggle echoed in his ear as she placed it upon his head._

* * *

With a sharp intake of breath, Father Joseph bolted upright, peering around frantically. He'd heard a noise. Maybe it was just a passing animal or a twig dropping, but he did not wish to take any chances.

The last two nights were agonizing. Lady Belle was in great pain, but she tried desperately to conceal it. They'd come across an outpost the day before, and Joseph ventured cautiously to it to buy rations and alcohol. He brought enough coins to last a week or so – and maybe that would bring them far from the Marchlands – but the need for money would come upon them soon.

He did not eat, giving all the food to Lady Belle, hoping it would keep up her strength. He used the alcohol to clean her wounds, and in the worse possible moments when her pain became too much to bear, he forced her to take swigs – and ultimately steal a few himself after she was settled.

The dawn broke an hour after he was abruptly roused from a shallow sleep. They needed to be on their way, to find a town with an inn to take a good night's rest and recuperate from the two days in the wilderness. Lady Belle was still unsteady on her feet, but with his aid, she could walk at a slow pace. Carrying her became harder as his strength wore thin from no food and barely any rest.

The town did come close to evening on the third day. They waited in the cover of the trees for nightfall. She'd fallen asleep against him as they waited sitting against a fallen log, her head on his shoulder, his arm protectively about her. Belle's breathing was still ragged, but it seemed easier for her to take a breath now. She seemed so fragile, this slip of a girl beside him, but oh, how strong she truly was. In her chest beat a courageous heart that if only he could have a tiny piece of her courage, he could move mountains.

Joseph pressed a kiss to Lady Belle's tangled hair. Evening had finally set. It was time to venture into the town.

He fixed the hood of the dirt-stained robes Lady Belle still adorned, hoping the disguise would endure a bit further. She gave him a small smile of reassurance, and that was enough to calm the storm roaring in his stomach.

It was agonizing, but he left her outside the tavern sitting on a barrel as he ambled inside to secure a room in the inn upstairs. His heart didn't stop racing out of his chest until they were both safely locked away. There was only one bed, and Lady Belle eased down carefully to sit.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he informed, though the wooden floor seemed less than appealing. It was the honorable thing to do even if the last two nights Lady Belle had slept beside him.

Joseph knelt before Belle, untying the tattered robes. A slim hand caught his own halting his progress, and he stared at the dirt-filled nails and pale fingers upon his hand.

"You will do none-the-sort, Father" Lady Belle murmured. He gazed up, meeting pure blues eyes that had always pierced his soul. "You have taken care of me, protected me, save me from death." The words seemed heavy in the still air. "You deserve to rest comfortably."

Joseph's eyes warmed. "You need the comfort more than I do, my Lady."

In the end, there was no arguing with Lady Belle. She knew there was no need for proper etiquette anymore, not when both were fugitives on the run from certain death - she no longer nobility, he no longer a cleric. He agreed to share the bed with her, after all it was large enough for them both, but he insisted on sleeping above the bedclothes.

After a warm meal – it was a luxury to eat warm food, Joseph set to cleaning her wounds and placing fresh bandages over them. They washed from the basin on the table and finished preparing to sleep for the night. Tomorrow would bring new clothes, more supplies, and maybe a horse to travel on.

Lady Belle curled in a ball under the woolen bedclothes; her back spooned against his front. Joseph wrapped an arm around her waist, snuggling closer to share warmth. It felt as if the world was a little safer with Lady Belle beside him. Her back moving as she breathed gave him comfort from the overwhelming panic that threatened to take hold of him at any moment.

Eventually sleep overcame him, the warmth and comfort of the room and the company relaxing his frayed nerves.

* * *

A blood curdling scream nearly sent Joseph reeling off the edge of the bed. He scrambled to sit up only to be slapped in the face by the back of a hand. Panic flooded his mind and his breath seized in his throat. They'd been found!

In the moonlight spilling in through the window, he saw no intruders storming the room, only Lady Belle beside him caught in a nightmare of unimaginable horrors. She struck out fiercely at her invisible captors desperate to escape. Joseph seized her flailing limbs, wrapping arms about her from behind, pinning her and pulling Belle to his chest.

"It's me, Belle" he hissed in her ear, "You are safe, my Lady."

Lady Belle let go of a deep sob that wracked her entire body as Joseph murmured comforts of reassurance. Her hot tears dropped and splattered noisily onto his shirt sleeves and exposed wrists. "You're safe, you're safe" he repeated over and over, trying to calm his own fears as much as hers. Lady Belle leaned back, resting the back of her head on his shoulder, her sobs and whimpers quieting.

They both nearly jumped out their skins at a pounding on the door. Joseph hissed a curse, fear flooding his entire body. They had drawn attention to themselves, and he beat himself mentally for risking their lives for the comfort of a soft bed and warm shelter.

"Stay here and keep your face hidden," he whispered, leaving the bed. He swallowed the lump in his throat before opening the door to reveal their doom.

The innkeeper stood imposingly over the threshold, a lamp hanging from his grasp. "Is there trouble in here?" he asked gruffly. "A scream was heard from this room."

Joseph stooped a little, trying to make himself appear as unimposing as possible. "My apologies, sir," he said in a small voice, "my wife is plagued with night terrors some nights. I have calmed her."

The innkeeper shone the lamplight into the room, peering around Joseph to check the woman sitting still as a statue on the side of the bed. Her head was hung, a curtain of tangled hair hiding most of her face, but she nodded in agreement to Joseph and that seemed enough for the innkeeper. The man moved on with a warning to Joseph to watch his wife more carefully.

Joseph shut the door quickly, a whimper escaping him. He pressed his back to the door, sliding down to the floor, and head in hands as he tried calming his raging nerves. He flinched when a hand touched his shoulder, and there was Lady Belle kneeling in front of him. She proffered the flask of alcohol he kept in the inner pocket of his robe. He took it, shakily downing several swigs before corking the stop.

He licked his burning lips, resting a hand on Lady Belle's where it still rested on his shoulder. "We must leave this place as soon as dawn breaks."


	4. The Unknown

**Chapter 4: The Unknown**

At first light, shrouded in the worn brown robes, they scurried like house mice through the empty tavern below the inn. Merchants were beginning to set out their wares for the day, and they weaved around carts and early risen townspeople. Joseph held firm to Belle's waist through the thick robe. Her strength was returning if only by a snail's pace.

From the shadows of the hood, Joseph flicked his eyes from each side of the road searching for a vender who specialized in clothing. To his dismay, there were none, only a booth selling practical hand-woven scarves and stockings. There were few colors to choose from, but a deep blue scarf caught Joseph's eye and he purchased it along with a pair of thick grey stockings. If he could not dress Lady Belle in unsoiled clothing, he could at least keep her warm and covered from prying eyes.

Joseph had hoped to purchase a horse to speed up their pace to travel as far from the Marchlands as they could, but after many ponderings on the thought, he knew it was not for the best. He did not know how to ride. Lady Belle, however, did, but in her condition, it was best to keep her fragile state from being jarred by the bounce of horseback on an unstable path.

They scurried from the village much as they did the tavern, crouched, making themselves as small and inconspicuous as possible. They were from the village not twenty minutes when a cart rolled by. They paid no mind to the man sitting atop the pony trap until he called to them, offering a ride in the back of his hay wagon. Joseph hesitated for an answer, wary of trusting anyone, but Lady Belle squeezed his hand and he took her lead.

The next village was several miles down the road, and to Joseph's relief it was rather nice to be carried instead. The hay made for a comfortable seat and the jostling of the wagon was mild. Belle pulled her hood back and in the glowing morning light, Joseph could see her health returning. Her face was not as pale, the redness in her eyes fading. Though the wounds on her back still pained her, she was becoming more herself the farther they distanced themselves from the treacherous place that caused her anguish.

Joseph lay back in the hay, closing his eyes as narrow beams of sunlight cut across his face through the leafy branches of the trees. The warmth and feel of nature was freeing, much more appealing than the drafty corridors of the monastery. In this moment, this was the first time he did not regret leaving the place he called home for over half his life. For Lady Belle, he did not regret leaving, but for himself, he did…until now.

Strains of hair tickled his cheek and he felt the weight of a head upon his shoulder. Joseph opened his eyes to see Belle settle beside him using his shoulder as a pillow. How he had spoiled her! But this brave girl deserved every bit of comfort the world could offer and if he could only offer his shoulder to her then he'd gladly bestow it. He raised her up slightly, slipping an arm underneath to encircle around her.

He had not known the touch of another for so long, not since his mother died. The life of a cleric was sterile and isolated. He'd chosen the life because of his mother. He was the youngest of six children. His mother feared he'd not find a trade apart from his three brothers. She loyally followed the beliefs of their people, and Joseph followed his mother's lead. It was not until after she died that he truly saw what went on behind the closed doors of the monastery, but by then it was too late to carve a new path in his life. The bottle became his friend, his way of escaping the hidden treachery surrounding him.

He did not stray from his sworn duty to help others. When the ogre wars began, Joseph was there at the soldier camps tending to wounded and giving encouragement to any who would listen. It warmed his heart to overflowing when Lady Belle visited the camps. Outwardly, she did not fear the war. She helped alongside him tending to the wounded, never losing her grip on the raw shock that he knew was flowing inside her just as it flowed inside of him.

He very much enjoyed her head upon his shoulder, her slim body pressed against him. Joseph drifted off to sleep, peaceful and contented.

* * *

The jolt of the wagon coming to a halt stirred Joseph from his well-needed slumber. He blinked, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes, and glanced at the mass of disheveled hair to his left. Lady Belle still slept. He hated to wake her, but the wagon-owner was informing them they had arrived at the next village.

Gently he removed the numb arm from around her and rubbed her forearm until she awoke. This village was farther than he'd ever traveled in his entire life, and that fact spun his stomach into impossible knots. They found a little clearing in the forest to eat their meager provisions. Behind a tree, Lady Belle changed into the grey stockings, replacing the dirty stockings she been wearing over those, and wrapped the scarf about her head and neck. With that, they were ready to travel again.

Joseph knew the highway was not a place they should be, but they continued on until a poster caught his eye and Joseph whimpered in utter fear at the faces staring back on it.

"They're searching for us" he hissed, ripping the poster from where it was nailed on a tree.

"This is outrageous" Belle choked out, a hand covering her mouth as her eyes became moist. "Why would my father allow this to happen? Allow any of it to happen?"

Joseph shook his head, miserably. "I don't know, Lady. The clerics must have an iron grip on him, more so than what I knew them capable of having." He ripped the poster to shreds, depositing the bits of parchment paper into a thick bush. Maybe a squirrel or a mouse would make better use of it. "We must keep to the forest, far from roads, and only venture into a village when necessary."

He turned to Lady Belle and his heart clinched at the tears making streaks in the dust and grim on her cheeks. She deserved so much more than what this life had dealt her. A safe home – a castle if Joseph had his way – where she would be taken care of and never want for anything. In two steps he was there, pulling her to him as she sobbed into his chest, the palm of his hand cupping her hair.

They made off for the next village - as fast as their exhausted bodies could carry them - bypassing it and trying to stay in the shadows of the trees. Lady Belle clung to his hand, barely letting go as they trekked on and on into the unknown. She needed him; depended on him; looked to him for comfort and protection, but Joseph's mind was a whirl of pure terror at the very thought.

He'd never experienced the responsibly of taking care of another. His mother and older siblings always cared for him, and when he entered the holy order, all was provided for him there. The only trade he was familiar in was bookbinding – having helped the monks of the monastery from time to time, but he did not know how much it paid and he'd have to start as an apprentice. How would he support himself and Lady Belle?

Another thought crossed his mind – what if she did not wish to stay with him? They were not husband and wife, or even lovers. The idea of Lady Belle falling in love with him was ridiculous by far. Youth was on her side, and besides, she could never look at him as anything but Father Joseph, and that fact bothered him more than what he knew it should. That's who he had been to her for her whole life: the kindly pastor who listened to her read books in the courtyard of the monastery and wore flower circlets she made for him every festival.

They needed to discuss the future…soon but not today. They were still on the run for their lives and whether they'd set up house or not wasn't important at the moment, not when there was a price on their heads.

Against his better judgment, they scuttered into a fairly small village that night. They'd not spotted any wanted posters along the way or anywhere in the village, so Joseph felt it safe enough to stay the night. The inn only consisted of 4 rooms, which were all vacant and the innkeeper was glad to take their coins. He put Belle to sleep, lying with her as always, combing her hair unconsciously until she drifted off.

The thoughts that had consumed his mind nearly the entire day were becoming too much to bare. His flask empty and his mind too fired up to sleep, Joseph found himself the only occupant in the tiny tavern attached to the inn.

He needed to forget. Just for one night, he needed to forget everything. He knew not how long he'd sat there gulping down mug after mug of watered down ail, but he drank so much that it finally blurred everything around him. A warm, cozy fuzz enveloped him, something he hadn't felt in a long time, but after a few more mugs, his head began to swim. The barkeep told him to go back to his room, and stumbling quite a few times on the way up, Joseph unlocked the door and shut it loudly.

"Father?" Belle's panicked voice rang through the darkness.

"My Lady" he slurred, trying but failing to take careful steps in the dark. He kicked the bedpost, hissing a curse. A hand grasped his arm, and Joseph was being pulled onto the bed.

"Are-are you all right?" Belle sounded uncertain, and in the haze of his mind, he was sure she could smell the ail on him.

A beat of silence fell between them before Joseph growled and asked, "What is to become of us, Lady?" Belle found his hand, squeezing it reassuringly, but he needed so much more than that as reassurance. "If we ever make it to safety, what are we to do? How are we to live?"

"Oh, Father" she crooned, but that was not what he wanted to hear.

Joseph jumped to his feet. "I am no holy man, no more! That life is over!" he snarled, stomping a foot loudly on the wooden floor. He heard Belle shift, and his heart sank as he realized he possibly frightened her. Joseph sank to his knees, pawing at the blanket, trying to find any part of Lady Belle to grasp. "I'm sorry, Lady Belle. Please forgive me."

Her breathing was the only sound until she shifted again, her hand petting his head. "If you are no holy man then I am no longer a noble lady."

"No" he sobbed, clutching at her skirts. "You will always be a Noble Lady, as I will always be a sorry excuse for a man."

"Joseph" she breathed, taking his face in both her hands. He wished he could see her, peer into those pure blue eyes that he had once gazed upon so innocently, but now- "Cleric or not, you are a wonderful man."

She pulled him onto the bed once more, making a cozy nest of the pillows and each other. This night she would hold him; stroke his hair soothingly; chase away all the fears of the unknown.


End file.
